I lay face down on the sheets
                           on the pillow
                    t   ng
                      a    led in blankets

breathing in every last bit of euphoria
   injecting it into my bloodstream
watching the insides of my eyelids
             turn
ORANGE
                                                     ­                                          PINK
                                                BLUE

s     ­        l
  w      r      i      g           around
       i            n
                                           until I can once again
feel the heat of your fireplace
  again in my heart
                                                     between my thighs
because
               the scent of you in my bed
is the scent of granted wishes
                     of guilty seduction,
                 reasons why we never leave the porch.

It is the call into the wild

         that sends the beaten, driven out

dreams tip-toeing out from behind

        the trees, the dark bars of reality

It is quiet here.
No voices,
No noises.
The silence swirls around,
It fills me.
The smell of damp wood
Mixed with soil
Fills my nose.
Stiff clothing is what I wear.
Hands clasped together,
Never parting.
My companions are also like me.
Dressed to impress
But not going anywhere soon.
My wooden box,
My comfort.
If you need me,
I shall be in my final home.

Oh freddled gruntbuggly
thy micturations are to me

As plurdled gabbleblotchits
on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee
my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts
with my blurglecruncheon,

see if I don't

Compliments of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to Galaxy & Wiki